The Perfect Ten
by TappinCastlefan
Summary: A ten chapter omage to Castle - a celebration for my tenth Castle fic!
1. Pulled

Kevin Ryan was being pulled. And he liked it. A lot.

Jenny was the best thing to happen to him in a long time. She was sweet and funny. She didn't constantly tell him that his job was too dangerous like some of his previous girlfriends did. Instead, she bragged to her friends about how her guy was an armed cop. How he caught murderers for a living. How he made the city a safer place.

Everyday when he walked out of the precinct to go to a scene he would think back on his morning. The shared breakfast with the local news in the background. If he had had a particularly draining case they'd watch cartoons. He never had to ask Jenny to change the channel. She could just look at him and know what he needed to see before getting back to the grind.

They'd share a kiss before walking hand in hand downstairs. Separating, they'd go their respective directions. He'd walk to the precinct if it was a nice day. Catch a cab if it wasn't. It was pointless to bring his car, because Esposito never let him drive. Jenney would take a cab to her office building. He insisted on it, no matter the weather. He knew what could happen to a woman alone in New York, and if he had a say about it nothing was going to happen to his Jenny.

Sure, she bought some of the most hideous ties one could imagine. Seriously. For a cute girl she had pretty bad taste in neckwear. But he loved them anyway. Kevin wore them to work, took the teasing, ignored the funny looks, all for her. Because those hideous ties reminded him that he had someone to come home to.

Someone who loved him.


	2. Disliked

It was tough being the guy that no one liked. It was true. Few of the detectives cared much for Sidney Perlmutter. He wasn't the submissive medical examiner who just spewed out the information. Much less for detectives who seemed blind to the fact that there was a person who that information belonged to.

A real person. Someone's mother, father. Their sister or brother. Even if they were a third cousin from a great parent no one knew.

No. He believed in some respect for his profession. Some respect for the victims. He knew what he was doing, and he knew how to get his job done. He didn't play games with the facts.

It was when he was talking to detectives and officers that he had his fun.

He considered it a challenge to himself to squeeze little digs and comments into his reports. Messing with the detectives (not the victims) – now, that was his game.

He gave himself bonus points when he garnered a response. Considered it a win when all he got was a blank stare.

Occasionally there were detectives that he liked, even went out of his way for. They were the ones who could serve justice and still retain some semblance of a personality.

Yes. Sidney Perlmutter liked some detectives. The ones who reminded him that good people existed.

It was for them, and only them, that he didn't mind being disliked.


	3. Power

It was a tough thing - being the father of a New York homicide detective. Constant worrying, jumping at the sound of an alarm, cringing at news reports of police fatalities. There was rarely a moment of true peace.

Jim Beckett knew it all too well.

Many nights were spent in front of a blackened television screen. He would often find himself glued to the local news, petrified that a story would break and he'd miss the report of something happening to his daughter.

His Kate. His little girl.

He loved her to death. He was prouder of her than he ever thought possible. She worked so hard at what she did. Giving families justice. Slaving away over witnesses and alibis night after night. As far as he knew, she always found the bad guy. There were people out there, in New York, safer, because of his daughter.

And he knew why she did it. Why she worked herself as hard as she did. Looking at the cabinet beside the door, now filled with books and pictures, he remembered exactly why.

That night. The so-called detective. His own…problems. She stood through it all. Jim knew that she shouldn't have had to. He should have been there. Really been there – and he wasn't.

Kate had taken herself up. She worked hard and made herself into one of the best homicide detectives in the city.

Remembering that fact – because it was a fact – he picked up the remote. And with a shaky index finger, pushed the 'power' button.


	4. Abnormal

Alexis Castle considered herself to be abnormal. She had no doubt that her father would agree with her.

She was definitely not the typical teenager.

No. Alexis loved school. She loved to learn new things. All kinds of things. She had fantastic teachers, the best in their fields. Her days were never boring. There as always something new.

But what made her life so much more interesting were her friends. Her friends were equally abnormal. The group of them, there were four all together, all loved school. Alexis was thankful for their shared interest – she didn't feel so weird when they were together.

She had learned from her father how important it was to have good friends. Great friends, in fact. Your friends were the ones who you could count on for anything. To be there when you needed a shoulder to cry on. Or be beside you when you decided to try skydiving. Well, at least that's what her father told her.

But it was true. She could depend on her friends and they could depend on her.

Together, they were getting though high school. Together they would graduate. However, deep down, she knew that they wouldn't fit together at the same college.

That wouldn't stop them. No. Nothing could keep the four of them apart.

Because, through thick and thin, they could, and would, always be abnormal together. No matter the distance.


	5. Important

Every night – meaning those nights after closing a case – Detective Javier Esposito went home. He went home, flopped backwards onto his couch, and closed his eyes. He wouldn't sleep. No. He couldn't sleep just yet. But he needed to close himself in the dark for just a few moments.

He had told his boss, his friend, Kate Beckett one day that he didn't want to think about murders after chasing them around during the day. But he couldn't…not, think about murders.

Every case was hard. Some worse than others. And they all made him remember how important every day was.

So, every night, he would come home, relax, maybe eat depending on what time it was. And assuming, no, hoping that it wasn't too late, he'd call his mother. Just to say 'goodnight'. Sometimes it was even 'good morning'.

She would then pass the phone to his father, who would proceed to talk about the most recent game, whatever sport, and ask him about the now closed case.

Truth be told, it helped to talk about the case. His father would just listen from the other end of the line. Not asking questions. Not asking for more gory details. He would just listen.

And that was all he needed.

And it was all his parents needed to know that he was safe.

Sure, Javier Esposito was a tough guy. He was the protective brother of the 12th. He kept his people safe. But like any other human being, he needed to decompress.

Here, at home, on his couch, Javier Esposito could forget about the murderers.

Because the murderers weren't important. Like Castle said, it was about the story. The people. His people. His family.

They were important.


	6. Pieces

Captain Roy Montgomery cared about his cops.

They were all taught well. Some came in from other precincts. Some came to him straight out of the academy. Regardless of their origin, he made sure he instilled some of his own beliefs in them.

One of his own personal philosophies in particular. If you get knocked down, you get right back up.

He didn't care how they applied the words, so long as they remembered them.

Roy had been in their place and knew what it felt like. Doing fieldwork, facing bullets. And of course, trying to have a life. A family.

It was hard, to try and do both. Serve your city and your family. But he had been determined to make the two pieces fit together.

So, when a stray bullet nicked his arm, just barely missing a major artery, it hit him. There was no way a little piece of metal was going to take him away from his job. More importantly, it would not take him away from his family.

Since that day, Roy Montgomery lived on that philosophy. Nothing was going to knock him down. And if he stumbled, he would get his footing back, stay right on track. Keep those pieces together.

Every single officer who passed through his precinct learned the same lesson, and every one in the future would, too. He would give them every piece of knowledge he could offer. Any piece of advice.

Because they were part of the puzzle he called a life now. More pieces to keep together.


	7. Shine

Her son told her that she was over-dramatic. Her friends told her that she was a diva. Her granddaughter told her that she was simply devoted to her art.

Martha Rogers agreed with all of them. She was absolutely devoted to the theatre. She lived it. Which, she supposed, was why her son accused her of being over-dramatic. But in her book, there was no such thing as 'over-dramatic' – only bold expression.

And what was wrong with being a diva? She loved acting. She was pretty damn good at it, too. Why shouldn't she let the world know?

Because, Martha believed, if you didn't express yourself, you were nothing.

The beauty of the theatre was the opportunity to do just that. Express yourself, or your character, and shine.

It didn't matter to her what other people thought. She dressed in bold colors, striking patterns, because she liked them. If the rest of the world didn't like how she looked…well, they didn't have to look at her.

But damned if she wasn't going to get their attention.

She considered every moment to be an opportunity to shine. _Carpe diem_. Seize the day.

Martha tended to seize the day by the throat and make it her own. And what was so wrong with that?

Each day was filled with love and laughter. Friends and family. Rarely, very rarely, did she take a day off.

She considered herself as born to entertain, to love. To live.


	8. Great

This was her world. Her kingdom. Her house. Her…everything.

Lanie Parish loved her lab. It was almost like a sanctuary. It was quiet here. All the time. She hardly ever had to see anyone. Anyone living, that is. There were very few people aside from her co-workers who dared to come down here. Sure, she'd see the detectives whose cases she was working on. But the only person who she would see both on and off-shift was Kate.

Kate Beckett, her best friend. The two were there for each other. Always loyal. Always supportive. There was nothing stronger than a bond between girlfriends.

Like Kate, Lanie devoted herself to her job. Whenever she stood over her table, over a body, scalpel in hand, she was in the zone. Everything else went away. She could forget about the world of the living, and completely give herself to the unfortunate soul in her morgue.

She was no cop. Out in the field, chasing killers down alleys, gun in her hand. No. That wasn't her game. That was too dangerous. And when you were short to begin with, you weren't the most comfortable with risky situations. Particularly those involving firearms.

Instead, Lanie chose to use science. Facts. To give those cops the proof they needed to catch that killer.

It's said that behind every great man is a great woman.

Well, as far as Lanie Parish was concerned, behind every great cop, was a great medical examiner.


	9. Brave

Everyday Kate Beckett walked into the 12th precinct. She hardly ever took a personal day, and did her best to keep herself healthy. There had been one incident, during her early years on the force, where a shot to the shoulder kept her home for a little over a month. It had been the worst month of her life.

Here…here was where she could change the world. Where she had the power to make a difference. It was an ugly, depressing job – standing for the dead. But everyday she put on a brave face and hunted the person responsible for taking another human being's life.

She would absolutely throw herself into the case. Ate, slept, and breathed investigative facts. Every fiber of her being was devoted to giving someone's family the closure that they deserved.

She knew, better than she should, what it felt like to be on the other side. To be told that your loved one was gone. Then to be told that it was an accident – when it so clearly wasn't.

But she couldn't remember this on the job. Couldn't let her own painful memories cloud her judgement. She had to be one-hundred percent focused on this victim. This family. Those who came to her for help and guidance.

And she loved the rush she got when she nailed the killer in interrogation. Watching them squirm under her vicious stare.

But more so, she loved the warm feeling in the pit of her stomach when a family thanked her for doing her job. Thanked her for closing the case. For being their superhero.

It was then that she would go home. Run a steaming hot bath, pour a heavy glass of wine, pick up a good book, and decompress.

It was in the calm, serenity of the hot water that she didn't have to be brave.

She could just…be.


	10. Lucky

Richard Castle was a very lucky man. Very lucky, indeed. As a child he had never imagined that this would be his life.

He never thought that he would have a daughter. A brilliant, compassionate daughter.

He never thought that the stories he wrote during classes and in the darkness of his room would become best-sellers.

He certainly never thought that he'd be letting his mother live with him. But then again, neither of them ever thought that she would have to.

And Richard Castle had definitely not imagined that he would be shadowing a New York homicide detective and her team for research.

None of it ever seemed to be real. But it was. And he was eternally grateful to whatever power had allowed him to have it all.

Not a day went by where he was bored. That was a fact. Even if he was home writing, his daughter would surprise him. Or his mother could always, undoubtedly, barge in with a dramatic story to tell.

Out in the field, well, there he felt like he was making a difference. Unlike sitting behind his desk typing away, working with Beckett and the boys gave him a thrill.

Not just the thrill of finding a killer. Of course, there was that, but there was also the thrill of the hunt. Putting the clues together, finding the evidence. The feeling of wholeness after closing a case, bringing a family justice.

The thrill of working with a team.

At the precinct he felt like part of a unit. Part of something bigger than himself. These people worked to protect the citizens – the people who couldn't help themselves. Keeping him, his daughter, his mother, all of them…safe, day in and day out.

It was for all of the people in his life that he wrote. As a tribute to all of their hard work. Somehow, everyone he knew made it into a book.

He thought his readers were lucky. To catch even a glimpse of the life he had.

* * *

**So thank you all so, so very much for all the support through my writing! And with this piece. I think it might be my favorite thing I've written. These characters are all just so incredible, that I thought they deserved a little dedication.**

**Thus, "The Perfect Ten" is dedicated to all those wonderfully actors, writers, creators, and everyone who works on Castle. It belongs to them, I'm just expressing my love for it.**

**Thank you all again for being so wonderful. I really do appreciate all the kind words you have. **

**Here's to future fanfiction. Mine and your's.**

**Love,  
Tappin**

**:-D **


End file.
